


Flowers

by x_nano_x



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: But with undertale(ish) vibes, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, I'll probably add more tags, Kinda, time travel?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27123106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x_nano_x/pseuds/x_nano_x
Summary: She should be dead. Heather shouldn't remember anything.What the fuck is going on?
Relationships: Heather Chandler/Veronica Sawyer
Comments: 18
Kudos: 126





	1. Begin again (and again)

**Author's Note:**

> I needed a little break from TFYC. Next chapter of that is in the works, but I really wanted to write this.

The first time was fast. It was as if Veronica blinked and _bang_ three people were dead. She reckoned Heather suffered the most, her face had contorted and her screams were strangled by the pain of having her insides burned. Drain cleaner has that effect on people, it seems.

Thinking back, JD was elated by the development. One less asshole around the school, one less person to have control over what was _his._ Shame her 'teen-angst-bullshit' was head over heels for the psycho. She felt less bad for Ram and Kurt - maybe on some level they had it coming. Though the plan wasn't to kill them, once you go in, you go all the way right?

Veronica reckons it's the fact that she was missing the girl in red, Heather Chandler was the reason she stood aiming a gun at her boyfriend. The term felt foreign to her, more like a partner in crime - perhaps pet psychopath? It didn't matter, she failed anyway. The guy had excellent marksmanship, and the last time _she_ held a gun she missed. Completely. Anyway, she was fully ready to embrace death - she knew _she_ had it coming at least, murder brings out feelings in everyone, she guessed. 

Except she woke up. 

Not even in a hospital, but in her bed - with the monotonous beeping of her alarm and lacking her fatal wound. 

"What the fuck?"

However, the most confusing part of her predicament, was the little yellow flower sticking out in her hair - she'd caught it in the mirror as she went to the bathroom. Thinking it was a random flower that (for whatever reason) got stuck in her hair. She didn't expect - along with most of what was happening - to feel a searing pain through her skull, it was like someone had stabbed her scalp with a hot poker. She didn't want to touch it again, not after (literally) feeling the pain of a thousand suns. So she continued with her routine, opting to play it off as some new hairpin Heather M. got her-

_Wait._

Was she even _in_ with the Heathers anymore? Well, what was left of them - could you really call them a group now? It's more like 'The Heather Duke Show' really, and honestly, it was dull. 

Not wanting to waste more time, Veronica went downstairs and poured herself some cereal. Her parents had left already it seemed, but her mother had left her lunch with a small note attached to it. 

_'Have a great first day, sweetie! Lots of Love, Mum xx'_

First day? Veronica huffed. Is this heaven's (or hell's) idea of a joke? It really wasn't funny. Well, jokes on them, she was far too emotionally drained to care - reincarnation(?) takes a lot out of a person. Today really wasn't her day.

It wasn't the first time. 

* * *

Westerburg was very much the same - well, the same before she fucked it all up. Ram was blatantly shaming anyone low on the totem pole, Kurt was 'backing up his bro' - oh right, they were alive, too. It was the confirmation she needed, and really, she just wanted to hide from everyone. Veronica knew the Heathers wouldn't go to the bathroom until after the bell, and she also knew that Martha avoided the toilets at all costs - the reasons behind that were, well, rather obvious. 

So that's where she went, before the jocks could see her - and the flower growing out of her head. She stared in the mirror a little while as if doing the same thing for ten minutes at home wasn't overkill. It really was _sensitive,_ the pain came no matter how gently she poked it. If only it wasn't yellow, she could very easily hide it in her hair - but it just stood out, mocking her in all its sunshine glory. 

Suddenly, her attention was ripped to the door. _How long was she standing there?_ Quickly, she scrambled for the closest stall, locking it behind. Veronica quietly peered through the gaps in the locker, watching Westerburg's resident traffic light squad saunter in - the apex predators of highschool. Duke immediately went to the stall next to Veronica, which Mac openly grimaced at. Chandler ignored it, instead opting to check her makeup in the mirror. 

Veronica knew she worried about Duke, but she learned quickly that Chandler sucked at emotions. So she ignored them most of the time. Now all that was left was Miss Flemming, and Veronica would be certain that she'd trapped in her own circle of hell.

"Ah, Heather, Heather-" There it is, even the interruption from Duke's vomiting, "And Heather..." Great, so shit was repeating itself. Veronica half shrugged, she may as well fulfil her role in this fucked up redo of her life. So, she picked out her diary and scrawled a hall pass to 'save the day'. She burst out of the stall - perhaps with a little too much vigour - and showed the note to the woman.

"Actually, Miss Flemming, all four of us are out on a hall pass." She said, putting on the puppy eyes to drive her point home. The teacher leered at her head, before shaking her head and leaving the bathroom. With a final breath, she turned to face the Heathers, who were obviously confused as to why a random loser helped them out of a sticky situation. But Chandler, she froze on the spot. She just stared at the brunette, snide remark on her tongue, but never delivered. 

"Both of you out." She ordered finally, receiving shocked looks from her lackeys. Duke, who had been smiling cruelly at Veronica, completely flipped - and almost hurt expression crossing her features.

"What?" They asked in sync, glancing between their leader and the girl who had a flower in her hair. 

"You heard me," Heather responded, tone still even, but with an underlying venom that compelled obedience from them. Obey they did, leaving without another word to anyone. 

Oh, this was not going well, Veronica debated on leaving with them - maybe running home and going to bed. Anything was better than whatever was going to happen now. 

"You killed me." Ah, so that's what this was about - and she remembers things, too. _Bonus._ Well, there was no use lying then, was there, it wouldn't help her situation. To be fair, technically she didn't kill Heather Chandler - but she also managed to take the wrong mug, so. Veronica glanced back at Heather, who was glaring straight into her soul - oh, _oh_ she wanted an answer?

"I-"

"You dare lie and I will rip your fucking arms off." Okay, hostile much? 

"I did, yeah - well, JD poured the stuff but- yeah I did..." Veronica conceded gently, the guilt of it all coming back and hitting hard. JD had seemed so genuine - at least, among the people she knew. Of course, she latched on to him. Heather's anger hadn't died any, so Veronica assumed that she was out to kill - it was fair enough, really. "I'm sorry, Heather. I didn't- It shouldn't have happened."

"Damn fucking right, it shouldn't." Heather agreed, an evil glint shining in her eyes, "And now you _owe_ me, Sawyer." Veronica gulped, she really didn't like where this was going, but what would happen if she declined? The brunette wasn't ready to find out. 

"What?"

Heather grinned, arms crossing over her blazer and weight shifting from one leg to the other, "You're gonna protect me. The psycho killed me once, no doubt he'll try it again. I may as well have one murderer on my side." Veronica winced at the term used to describe her, she hated the way it sounded. Part of her was ready to argue, plead to Heather's better nature (if she had one) and convince her that she didn't want any of this. She kept quiet. "You do that, and I won't find a way to outcast you _early._ Now come on, dipshit, you're sitting with us.

* * *

Veronica quickly learnt that when Heather meant she 'may as well have one murderer on [her] side,' she meant _literally_ by her side. Veronica couldn't do so much as go to the bathroom alone, she always had one Heather with her. Which, for the two that didn't know, was a very awkward time - Duke complained the most about it, huffing every time Mac wasn't around to escort the brunette - Mac, herself, rather enjoyed herself, though. Also, unlike last time, Chandler kept her conversations with Veronica short - God forbid she catch Veronica sneak a glance at JD. 

Even so, the week went quickly, and Veronica found herself invited to Ram's party. Though it was Mac's idea to invite her, Chandler was very much against the idea - but when Mac came up with the same argument Chandler did the first time, she couldn't really argue. Veronica guessed that's what led to Chandler standing in her room, throwing all of the brunette's clothes out on the bed. Scowling all the while.

"I see your fashion sense hasn't improved since last time," Heather spat, eyeing the clothes with particular disdain, "did nuns buy your clothes or what?" Veronica wasn't sure whether to laugh or be offended, but before she could retort, Chandler threw a purple dress at her. "That'll have to do- would you _please_ take that stupid fucking flower out your hair?" 

"Gee, Heather. Since you asked so nicely..." Veronica deadpanned, ignoring the scowl she got in return. She heard Chandler mutter under her breath before closing the distance between them, opting to rip the damn thing out herself. 

She did not expect the ear-piercing scream that came as a response. 

"What the fuck, Sawyer?" She snapped, doing her best to ignore the tears that had sprung to the other girl's eyes.

"F-fucking- do you fucking mind?!" Veronica shot back, she appreciated Heather's anger and the fact she had no standing considering their... _past._ But she could at least try to be civil. She was ready to give her a piece of her mind, maybe explain that the flower in her hair was _stuck there,_ but Heather was still; her firey demeanor replaced by something almost akin to concern. It was unnerving to Veronica, to say the least. 

"Care to explain?" Heather asked.

"I don't know. I woke up with it." _Who chooses to wear flowers in their hair? Wake up, Heather._ Veronica studied Heather's response - a huff - and rolled her eyes at the girl's indignance. Though nothing more was said, and the two got ready in silence.

* * *

Veronica still wasn't used to the claustrophobic atmosphere that came with music and lots of drunk, dancing bodies. She was being knocked around like a fucking ball. The music was pounding, vibrating in her ears and chest - she had lost all the Heathers a while ago, left to traverse the house alone. Not that she could do it effectively. Heather had warned her not to drink before they got in, but she wasn't around now, and Veronica was bored. _If she can't be bothered to keep an eye on me, then I can't be bothered to listen to her fucking orders._

Only after four drinks did the brunette start to enjoy herself, dancing with some of her more drunk peers. Heck, she even managed a friendly conversation with _Kurt_ , who danced without trying to make a move. A pleasant surprise, really, considering his priors - date-rapes and age jokes. No, Veronica was enjoying herself. Right up until a Heather caught her drinking - Duke, by the looks of it. She only just caught the smirk on the other girl's face as she scurried off to her master.

_I am so fucked._

Fucked, she was. Stumbling down the pavement like a career drunk - just like the first time. What Duke had against her, she didn't know, but revenge was best served cold. Veronica would get her own back in time. _Now, where do I live again?_

* * *

Needless to say, she didn't wake up in her own bed. But one she still recognised. _God-fucking-damn it. I didn't even talk to him this time!_ JD stirred next to her, slinging an arm over her waist. Once upon a time, her heart would flutter at the action - she'd reciprocate by planting a kiss to his forehead or snuggling closer. But now, knowing what he's capable of, she was _repulsed_ , how could someone so outwardly innocent be such a conniving monster. 

_I need to leave. Now._

She carefully wriggled out of his grip, mumbling about apologising to Heather. He woke, mumbling back about joining her - she wanted to stop him, but he was adamant. But she made him wait outside the kitchen, so she could make a hangover cure alone. Honestly, she probably should've expected that he would take matters into his own hands - eliminating a problem was easier when done alone anyway. She saw it as she walked upstairs, him aiming a gun to her chest - her, mortified (though more in disbelief that he would _dare_ step to her - classic Heather Chandler, Veronica supposed). 

What happened next was knee-jerk. Shoving past him, putting herself in between them. How naive of her to think that his obsession with her would halt his next move - obviously forgetting her last fatal encounter with a gun. It was rather pathetic, honestly. She felt the pain before she heard the shot, Heather's scream - JD bolting out the window (did doors just not exist with him?). Anyway, thinking back for a moment, JD must've seen her as tainted - the whole 'if I can't have her, nobody can' spiel. Jesus and she was into him? Wow. _I'm such a fucking pillowcase._

She did see something new, though - then again, it could be the adrenaline talking - Heather looked... Concerned? Worried, even. Or - she couldn't think of the words, it was becoming blurry. Just like last time, the darkness consumed her. 

Only this time, she didn't immediately wake up in her room. 

There was darkness all around her, like some kind of endless limbo. In front of her, a choice - one that she could see. Continue? Or quit. Veronica assumed 'quit' meant that she actually _died,_ continue was likely another do-over. Honestly, she was tired and resting sounded like a perfect idea - but she also owed Heather, Kurt and Ram - even JD on some level. No one would be safe until he was dealt with - one way or another. So, she made her choice.

She woke up again.

* * *

She didn't dwell on it much, going straight to the bathroom to get ready. She was always good at getting over things quickly, it allowed her to disassociate with the situation and just get on with life. However, she saw herself in the mirror. Three yellow flowers sat in her hair- head? _What the fuck._ She would need to get to the bottom of that later, for now; she'd need to get to school, avoid Martha again (apologise later) and figure everything else out. _Easy peasy._

Walking into school, she reckoned that she should avoid joining the Heathers. Maybe then they'd all get to finish high school. However, with all her truly _meticulous_ planning, she forgot one thing. 

Heather Chandler is as aware as Veronica. 

It only came back to her when the girl in red dragged her from the corridor - effectively kidnapping her - to the bathroom. "Okay, what the fuck, Heather?" Veronica jabbed, forgetting her place and forgetting that Heather was in the know. 

"Don't 'what the fuck' me, Sawyer!" Heather shot back, "What the _fuck_ were you thinking?! What the fuck happened? _Why_ the fuck did I black out and wake up on September - fucking - first!?" It hit Veronica then.

 _Right, Heather knows._ She straightened her back, preparing to explain that she had no fucking clue what was happening - but she found herself being inspected. _Hi there, what, even?_ "Uh, Heather?"

"Shut up, Veronica." Heather snapped, continuing to look for the bullet hole that was so _clearly_ in her chest before. She didn't need to be seen walking with a literal zombie. _Also, what the fuck is with the flowers?_ After finding no wound and leaving Veronica hopelessly confused, she came back to the conversation - and her earlier question. "So, care to answer?"

Veronica snapped into focus, "Oh- _oh,_ that _wasn't_ rhetorical?"

"No, you pillowcase!" Heather rolled her eyes.

"Right. Well, you said I owed you, right?" Heather nodded, suspicious, "-And that you wanted me to protect you..." Another nod, "Well," Veronica said, slowly, "That's what I did, isn't it?" Heather was silent, mulling the words over in her head. She _did_ do that. Veronica watched as her face went through a myriad of emotions, ending in anger.

"It isn't my damn fault you died!" 

Veronica quirked her brow, "I never said it was?" Heather huffed at her, eyes darting around the bathroom - searching for something else to talk about. Her eyes eventually landed on the flowers. 

"What's with those then?"

"Hm?"

"Ugh, wake up, Sawyer - _those."_ Heather snapped, pointing at the other girl's head. Veronica dumbly felt the plants, wincing as she did so.

 _I've really gotta stop doing that._ "They're... flowers?" Veronica shrugged, biting a laugh at Heather's growing impatience. She was rather easy to piss off and, while it wasn't a great idea, sometimes she just couldn't help herself. 

" _Veronica..._ " Heather warned, tone sharp. 

" _I don't know!_ I wake up and they're just- _there!"_ _And they multiply!_ Heather recoiled, the thought of shit growing out of someone's head was absurd. But, so was reliving events - coming back from the dead, too. So she supposed she could let it go, they'd need to get to the bottom of it later. She brought herself back to Veronica, who was tapping her foot impatiently. 

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. But I walked all the way here, and I'm exhausted as fuck." Veronica deadpanned, "So if you don't mind, I'm going to class." With that, she turned back to the door and moved to leave. 

Only for Heather to grab her.

"You're sitting with us. Our arrangement still stands." She said. Veronica had better things to do than argue, so she merely nodded and shook her arm out of the other girl's grip. Then, she left for the lesson. Leaving Heather alone in the bathroom, mind forever wandering back to her bedroom, the gun - Veronica's _intervention._ Maybe this time she'll keep her safe without being so drastic, and they could put this groundhog shit to rest. 

_What a pillowcase._


	2. Forgive me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: suicide - but it's sort of temporary?  
> This is a pretty heavy one, so warning for that

Heather found herself glaring at JD throughout lunch that day, gauging confusing stares from the other two Heathers - more so since Veronica randomly showed up at their table, suffice to say, Duke didn't receive the news well. She was a random nobody, making herself at home with the elites - how disturbing, indeed.

Veronica sat awkwardly at the edge of the table, the situation was far too forced for her liking. She was on Heather's bad side, and sitting with her and her minions - what a situation to be in. JD had finally taken notice of Heather's rude staring and began glaring right back. The war of wars, holding a Heather Chandler stare, soon enough the whole canteen was aware of the subtle fight. Then, Kurt and Ram started provoking the boy - leading to an event both Veronica and Heather remembered very well. The gun with blanks. The brunette didn't even wince at the shots, but her attention was taken by a scream. Kurt was bleeding- _Kurt was bleeding?_

Weren't they blanks? Chandler was wearing an equally perplexed face. Veronica really didn't want to jump in front of a firearm again - it was becoming an unfortunate habit - so she called out to the remaining jock, who was frozen and staring at his friend. 

"Ram! Watch out!" His head whipped 'round to her, then back to JD. He managed to land a punch on him before the gun went off again. Neither Veronica nor Heather were surprised when Ram's body flopped on to the canteen floor. JD looked far too happy with his work - as if he had anticipated it for a while, then he turned to Chandler, sauntering over as if nothing had happened. 

"See somethin' ya like?" He asked her, revelling in her expression. A mix of disgust and fear - one masking the other almost perfectly. 

"Take a hike, Jesse." She snapped back, voice only slightly trembling. He shrank back, almost offended by her, but left. Leaving behind an imprint of what he was capable of.

* * *

The police had come and gone, taking JD with them for questioning - no one had the balls to describe what they saw and the teachers were notably absent during the event. Veronica burst into the bathrooms, throwing off her jacket and stumbling into a stall. It was too much, he wasn't meant to kill them. _They were meant to be blanks! What the fuck?!_ She threw up. It felt like hours, her throat was raw, hair a mess - yet all she could think about was JD. JD and his stupid charm, her stupid infatuation. It was all her fault. 

She finally stumbled back out of the stall, to the mirror to fix herself. She looked like hell. Her hair was matted and messy, eyes sunken in with deep-seated exhaustion. Brow wet with sweat. The flowers in her hair danced mockingly, reminding her of her failures - as a person... As a friend. The handsoap caught her eyes and she squeezed out as much as possible on to a few paper towels and scrubbed. Scrubbing her arms till they were white with soap and red raw. Anything to get rid of him. Get rid of JD.

Sinking down the wall to the floor, Veronica kept scrubbing her arms. _It's not enough!_ Just having him in her head made her want to hurl again. How could she have been so blind? So eager to do what he wanted, to kill for him - with him? It was a disgrace. Veronica knew by now that she was sobbing, that her arms were starting to bleed. The paper towels had disintegrated into blue flecks among the red and white on her arms - which were slowly growing sticky with dried soap. It all felt so disgusting. Heather hated her - she had every right - and she was stuck in what seemed like a _loop_ of failure. 

It must've been a good half hour since she got there. The door creaked open, revealing a couple of freshmen who had likely come to try and skip - no passes, like amateurs. Their eyes landed on the senior, sitting with her head in her arms and her knees up to her chest - arms red with dried blood and irritation. Of course, they knew who she was - Veronica Sawyer, newest Heather. Come take a look, just don't poke at the glass. She waited for them to tattle or laugh, but the door opened again - Veronica had been gone a while now, Heather was likely pissed off. 

She looked up, locking eyes with the freshmen and the person who entered after them. Mac sent a glare, sending the freshmen scuttling off, then turned to Veronica, "Come on, Heather wants you." Didn't take a genius to figure out which Heather, but Veronica didn't want to move. She nodded, getting up and pulling her sleeves down, ignoring the way Mac watched - scrutinised her. Despite her status, the yellow girl often wore her heart on her sleeve - rather than speaking her mind, however, she often spoke through expression. Veronica recognised this, she understood it once Chandler died the first time - how the girl had receded, put popularity on the backseat and give herself time to mourn; Heather Duke didn't allow for it, Mac showed too much weakness and she moved down the totem pole. The end result being, well, the pills. 

Though, Veronica didn't hate Duke. She wanted to give her a taste of her own medicine, sure, but she knew the girl was under a lot more pressure with Chandler. She had more imperfections to cover and it was ultimately her use that kept her in with the Heathers - much like Veronica, herself. Still, it wasn't an excuse to drive someone to such a level - even Chandler wasn't cruel enough to make someone think about suicide. She was bitchy enough to stay at the top, but not enough to become a literal monster - a balance, she guessed, that Duke simply couldn't fathom. 

As they walked out of the bathroom, Veronica felt a hand on her shoulder - she glanced to Heather, but she was simply looking ahead, detached from the action completely. Veronica emulated that, fixing her posture in thanks. The other two Heathers were waiting out by the Porsche, the rest of the school were still tumbling out. It didn't really need to be explained that a student dying on the premises warranted a cancellation - it was common sense. Veronica did find herself doubting whether the school staff actually had that. 

"Took you pillowcases long enough," Chandler barked, glaring at the way Mac was walking with the brunette - she quickly fixed that, letting her arm fall back to her side. "What did you do, fall into the shitter?"

Mac spoke for Veronica, putting herself in front, "Veronica just needed a minute, someone _did_ just die, Heather."

Chandler glared, eyes narrow slits, "Well, I thought someone like Veronica would be used to it by now." She let the comment hang, hoping to thrive in the way that Veronica squirmed and hugged herself. She deserved it. However, seeing how she made herself smaller only brought a small reprieve, it just brought her back to last time. Veronica moving in front of her, trying to reason with her psycho boyfriend. Getting shot. She shook her head, giving the two girls a final look before turning to her car - she thought she saw another flower in the girl's hair, but she put that on the back burner, now wasn't the time or place. 

Taking the opportunity to have a jab, Duke crossed her arms and moved forward with a sneer, "What's with the flower show, Sawyer? Growing a garden in your hair?-"

"Shut up, Heather." 

Immediately, she backed down, "Sorry, Heather."

Duke got into the front with Chandler, leaving the other two to get in the back. As the last of the students trickled out of the school, they drove off, making their way to their respective homes. There would be no hanging out tonight, the day was exhausting enough - it was only 1:30 pm. Duke was the first out, she made sure to fit in one last jab before she left - while dodging the 'shut up' that came after. Mac was next, which confused the brunette, as her house was closer to Duke's. It would've made more sense to drop her off first. She said nothing until Heather missed the turning to her home.

"Hey - uh - my house is that way." She said, jabbing her thumb behind her. Heather looked at her through the rear mirror, steel eyes boring into her head.

"We're going to mine." She replied simply, in a tone that left no room for argument. Not that Veronica would dare at the moment, not with less than a leg to stand on. No, for now, she'd follow Chandler's every whim like a good dog - until she earned back even a sliver of respect (which seemed very unlikely).

Eventually, they pulled into the Chandler residence. She didn't live in a mansion, per se, though her parents did inherit an old mansion - from the 1940s or something - in rural England from Heather's late grandfather; the Chandler household was notably bigger than other houses on the street, more windows, bigger drive, well-kept lawn and at least two other high-end cars in the said drive. Otherwise, it looked like any other suburban house on the street, in an absurd sense. 

"Close your mouth, Sawyer, you'll catch flies like that." Heather snapped, Veronica had been to the house before anyway, there was no reason for her to be in awe every time. As soon as the car stopped, she got out, not waiting for the brunette to follow suit - she knew she would, regardless. As Veronica trudged up to the door, Chandler gave a dismissive glance over her shoulder, "You grew another flower since this morning," she remarked offhandedly as she unlocked the door. She bit back a smirk as Veronica muttered an 'oh shit' under her breath.

The house inside was very neutral, lots of beige and white - plenty of expensive ornaments and gold accents. Clearly, the family had expensive taste. The kitchen was the splash of colour, red of course, Veronica had a feeling the girl designed the interior of the kitchen herself - the biggest wall was a red feature, amplified by the other white walls; the tea-towels, mugs, oven-mitts and chopping boards all shared the same, bold red. Veronica knew it well, of course. This time, however, there was no detour to the kitchen, they went straight to the bedroom - which was similarly designed. Veronica's eyes were drawn to the glass coffee table, all together in one piece - however, it broke before her eyes, the body of Heather lying atop its remains; glass cutting into cooling skin that would never heal, light blue standing out against the red of the room, of her blood. The brunette felt like vomiting again, before the harsh snap of Heather's fingers brought her back to reality.

"Try to stay in _this_ world, Veronica. I don't have time for you to zone out like a pillowcase." She said, snapping her fingers twice more before giving a sharp motion for them both to sit on the bed. 

"Why am I here?" Veronica started, doing her best to ignore the glare she got for breaking the silence first.

"I've been thinking," Heather started, her own eyes trailing to the glass table, "Jesse. He's far too dangerous to keep around." Veronica sucked in a harsh breath, she had a faint idea of where this was going.

"You're a killer, so you're gonna help me get rid of him."

Veronica gulped, "Like, permanently?"

"Yes, you idiot, permanently." She snapped, "Then, afterwards, we'll be even. You fuck off out of my life and the Heathers will leave you to live your life in loserdom." Despite that meaning, she'd move back down the social hierarchy, Veronica couldn't help but sigh at the thought - the ability to just live her life and get on with it. No Heathers, just Veronica. However, killing Jason Dean? Apart from the immorality of it, the guy had a high kill count (if you include the last couple of timelines), he wouldn't exactly be easy to kill. 

"How exactly do we do that?"

Heather scoffed, pulling out a piece of paper from her dressing table drawer and waved it in the other girl's face, "We do it the same way you did to me, Kurt and Ram."

"Heather I-"

"No, don't 'Heather' me, this is all _your_ fucking mess and now _I_ have to help you clean it up. If you hadn't associated with him in the first place, none of this would be happening!" She slammed the paper back on top of the dressing table, shooting daggers into the brunette - who shrunk into herself a little. 

"Heather, I'm sorry-"

"Shut up, Veronica!" She shouted, hand scrunching the paper, "You have _no_ idea how painful that shit was! _Draino_ doesn't kill you instantly, it takes its merry fucking time fucking up your insides - on top of that, I fell into fucking _glass_ , which ripped up my body on the outside. Just _try_ to imagine that, chemicals literally _melting_ your insides while glass rips up the outside!" Hot tears formed in her eyes, the paper was destroyed in her hand, "I wasn't fucking _dead_ when I hit that glass, but my throat was already far too fucked to scream, I was frozen from the pain! I heard you two plotting your little scheme to make it look like a suicide. What a _beautiful_ fucking thing to hear from your 'best friend' before you die. So you can take your 'sorry' and shove it right back up your ass!" She let out a heavy sigh, finally loosening her grip on the paper and collapsing back on top of the bed, hiding her face. On some level, she knew Veronica didn't know what it was, that she was just stupidly careless in taking the wrong mug. She saw Veronica's surprise as she fell and how her voice wavered in the aftermath - but carelessness isn't an excuse for assisted murder. 

"Heather, I-" The brunette tried again, but the words simply wouldn't form. She had no excuse for her actions, and an apology wasn't enough; she looked again at the glass table, a new though coming to her, "What if I drank some."

Heather glared with one eye from her position, "What?"

"Make me drink some, eye for an eye. I'll just come back anyway, right? Then, we can focus on JD."

"Don't be a fucking idiot, did you not hear me describe the experience?"

"I did! I'm trying to make it up to you!"

"No, Veronica."

"Why?-"

"I'm not _him,_ I'm not into his idea of twisted revenge."

She got up then, ignoring the glare she got from Heather as she made her way down the kitchen. They both knew she deserved some kind of reparation for her actions, so she grabbed a mug and the bottle of No Rust Build-Up from their respective cupboards and took it back upstairs, placing it on the bedside table in front of Heather. 

"What the fuck, Sawyer? I said no."

"I don't care," Veronica jabbed, "I'll come back, right? Then I'll get it, I can say sorry knowing the pain you went through."

"Then what, Veronica? We become best friends and braid each other's hair? This won't do anything but make us have to start from the beginning again - it's ultimately stupid."

Heather was right, of course, this would only inconvenience them in the long run, the flowers in her head pulsed, taking root in her head - tearing into her. The pain was getting unbearable - it must be the new one, usually, they were already there by the time she woke up - this was like some kind of fucked up growing pain. She picked up the mug, gripping it and staring at it's sharp blue hue.

"I said no." Came Heather from beside her, she was sitting now, fully prepared to take it from her. 

Veronica averted her eyes to the table, it was broken again with Heather over it, like when she came in minutes earlier. All she could think about was the pain the girl must've gone through, Heather was right about another thing. She simply couldn't imagine it. It was a stupid move, one that would cost them time, but she had to - she could come back from it, like every other time. It would be worth the extra ground to make up, she had to apologise to Heather and, in her head, this was the only feasible way. She moved away from the other girl, to the other side of the table. Her head was buzzing now, the flowers were moving - she could feel it - it felt like her head was being torn into, a hand came up to cradle her head, the other keeping hold of the mug. She faintly heard Heather warning her from the background, but without another second's hesitation, she downed the chemicals. 

The reaction was instant. Her throat immediately burst into flames, stealing any chance she had to scream, her hand loosened on the mug and it dropped to the ground. Her body was next, like Heather before her, it was headed straight for the glass table - only she never came into contact with it. Heather grabbed her body, yanking her in her own direction, both falling on to the floor. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" She all but screamed, knowing full well that the brunette had no chance of answering. The girl just shook, her eyes already looked dead, but Heather knew better.

She had no control over her body, she could hear Heather, feel her holding her. But it partly drowned by the feeling of fire, she was melting, everything was. Her throat, oesophagus, her stomach - _everything._ She shook and writhed, unable to voice her pain, the flowers on her head buzzed harder - digging, clawing, ripping. Absently, she felt Heather hold her tighter - she hoped this would be enough, if not for Heather to forgive her, but to forgive herself.

* * *

After what seemed like hours, Veronica shot up - back to her room, back to the beginning. Really, all she could do in that moment, was cry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt a little forced at the end, but hope it was okay  
> I feel like this is gonna exceed 3 chapters but oh well.


	3. Back to Basics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So this will definitely exceed 3 chapters  
> Thank you so much for the wonderful comments and kudos!  
> Enjoy!

The sounds of stomping on the stairs briefly drew Veronica's attention, her mother didn't stomp and her father was always out of the house by 5. Almost as quickly as she heard the noise, the door slammed open, revealing a dishevelled Heather Chandler - still in her kimono and a pair of slippers. Behind Heather, Mrs Sawyer stood, wringing her hands and muttering complaints and apologies to Veronica. The woman didn't even get a chance to notice her daughter's current condition, as Heather turned and gave her an impatient smile before slamming the door shut. It was one of the only time Veronica was truly confused about what the fuck was happening.

"We're meeting earlier and earlier every time..." She chuckled - rather, spluttered through the tears that continued to run down her face. She wasn't expecting a laugh, she wasn't laughing herself. But she didn't expect Heather step forward, stone-faced, as she gave the brunette a swift slap on the cheek. Veronica's head snapped to the right, eyes wide and staring into the wall - and the picture of Harvard she had hung there - she didn't move, didn't dare look as Heather began to sob softly. 

Instead, she tried to speak, offer something. "Heather-" But nothing came about, nothing meaningful came to mind, and really, what do you say to the person you just died in front of. It's one thing to be murdered, it's another to commit the action upon yourself. On top of it all, her limbs ached - everything did - and the flowers had not stopped buzzing in her head. She knew there were more, but she'd hoped the overall pain would stop - though, granted, it was dulled. In turn, Heather didn't reply, her sobs carried through the silent conversation - that alone said far more than words alone. 

Finally, Heather found words, the shock of it all slowly began to melt away - leaving behind nothing but raw emotion. "Why? I told you it was a bad idea." She said, voice softer - more careful than her usual bark. Like someone had drained her completely, leaving nothing but a husk to deal with what's left, "You think that makes up for it?"

"No-"

"Then why the fuck, Veronica!" She screamed, switch flipping, everything was still unstable and ready to topple over the edge. All with one small nudge, "Do you know how scary that shit was? Or how stupid? It felt like-" She paused, mulling over her thoughts and reliving her own past events. Deja vu hit like a train. "What were you thinking..." She muttered, quietly.

* * *

She watched as the body fell, writhing and trembling as the draino travelled through her system - what possessed her to drink it? In some sick way, Heather supposed she should feel somewhat happy, this was justice, a taste of her own medicine - literally. But as she sat on the carpet, holding the brunette in her arms as she suffered, Heather felt sick. She knew the pain of drinking it, she knew exactly what Veronica was going through right now, worst of all, it was already too late to save her. Even if it weren't, what kind of life would she live? Forced to eat with a feeding tube and never be able to speak again? That isn't life, it was more merciful to let her ride out till death - as painful as that is. 

There was no justice in this, she felt like shit - did she push Veronica to this? Heather had a right to be angry, she was murdered, then had it covered up - all by her 'best friend'. But she could only be angry, seeing the brunette in this state - hot tears streaming down her cheeks, the horrific gurgling of her stomach and insides, the way the liquid leaked out of her mouth in reds, blues and purples; it felt wrong. Veronica needed help - both with this shitty reset situation and possibly mentally. Without thinking, she pulled Veronica closer, offering warmth before death - rather than the coldness she received from the glass. In some fucked up sense, Veronica proved her loyalty and her friendship to Heather.

Then, everything went dark. 

* * *

The other turned to the window, the few trees outside swayed lightly with the wind; the sun had risen high, already. Summer was fizzling out, the sun would soon take its time coming out - Veronica wondered idly whether she'd ever see the late sun again. Her hand brushed her arms, they were no longer red and irritated, the reset had reverted her body and healed her wounds. She wished her memory had been fixed, too; she just wanted to get rid of it all, erase her mistakes and start fresh - awaken anew, like the sun. With a final stroke of her arm, Veronica turned back to Heather with another apology ready in her eyes, but she paused and took a breath. "I'm really tired, Heather."

"What?"

"Come on," She sighed, "we've been through this a handful of times already. He's always going to win, some way or another."

Heather grimaced, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Seeing Veronica look this fed up was unnerving, if there was one thing she admired in the girl (though it certainly annoyed her) was her stubbornness. "Can we put a pause on the teen angst shit for a minute?" She asked, "What brought this on? You were fine earlier - you were fine up until last time."

The flowers' buzzing made itself apparent again, causing a deep grimace in Veronica, it was like they were draining something out of her. She rested her head in her hand, the other moved to trace patterns in the duvet - an effort to distract herself. There wasn't a lot she could stay, she didn't understand all this, all the shit that was going on. All she knew was that JD was likely a source, his interference was directly affecting her and time, apparently. However, he was as fluid as the situation - he kept adding new variables, being unpredictable and, most of all, it was killing her. She began this shitstorm as an accomplice - an accessory to multiple murders. Now, she's just helpless to stop it. Heather wasn't helping, not that she was expected to, she wasn't at fault for any of this. 

"It's got something to do with those, right?" Heather said, pointing at the flowers. She initially moved to touch them, but remembered Veronica's reaction and stayed where she was. 

"Probably." Was the tired answer she got. 

The silence carried on from there, persisted, as they both lamented on what they'd done so far. Everything that had happened - thinking back, it wasn't a whole lot in quantity, it was the actions themselves, the implications, that weighed down the psyche. It needed to end, but it wouldn't end easily. Veronica could faintly taste the drain cleaner on her tongue, it was awfully bitter and tingled lightly as a reminder of the pain of it burning her tongue. It was awfully selfish of her, there was no reason for her to do it - it all just pissed Heather off more. 

Heather was merely silent. There wasn't a lot of thought, she didn't really want to think about it. Though, perhaps that was the issue, her refusal to accept her death - moreover, Veronica's two subsequent deaths. She just wanted it over, all she had were faint memories of her fatal drink - with every reset she grew further apart form it, her memory slipping further and further away. It came as a relief, that she would be able to live her life fully once this was over, as the trauma just faded from her memory - as a mere anomaly. Her eyes found Veronica again and she released a sigh, "I don't forgive you."

"I wouldn't expect you to-"

"No, not for killing me." _I won't even remember that soon enough,_ "For what you did. For drinking that draino." Though she supposed that was a moot point too, she'd eventually come to forget that too if these resets kept happening, "You disobeyed your queen, bitch." She chuckled, throwing her old flare into her words - she saw no point in dwelling, bad things happen when one dwells. Clearly. 

Veronica caught on, letting herself chuckle a little too. "I'm not even a Heather, yet."

"Well, now you are. Welcome to the team-"

"Again?"

"Again. For real this time, I'm not gonna have my minions watch your every move."

"Thanks, Heather."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't be a dick." With that, Heather moved and grabbed Veronica by the wrists to get her out of bed - the girl responded with a groan about ached limbs and a complaint of "Don't pull so tight, Heather!"

* * *

School was an easier start than usual, walking in with the queen bee had definite upsides - apart from the odd stare she received from Martha, obviously, Veronica would have to go back to her later and explain. Worse was the glare from Duke - Mac was just mildly confused, she threw around the odd comment but nothing Veronica could ever be offended by. No, Duke was the bellyache.

"Who's this?" She had hissed

Chandler had explained, keeping it short and simple - finishing off with a swift verbal disciplining, as per usual. Duke backed down, she always backs down - the day continued as usual. 

The lessons came and went, Veronica was purely focussed on JD - what he was going to do, what would change - she needed to figure out some kind of pattern. As lunchtime rolled around, she was glued to the position of JD as he sat alone on his table in the corner. There was one other kid next to him, half-asleep in his food, that was always a constant when he sat there. Initially, the boy in black didn't look dangerous, just edgy - like he was trying too hard. Ram and Kurt then found their way near him - another one of those constants, they visited him regardless of her own input. It was fairly useful.

He got annoyed, but didn't pull out a gun - he just fought them, the old fashioned way. From beside her, she heard Heather make a noise of confusion - JD is the only thing (apart from Heather and Veronica) that changes. If he was resetting like they were, did he know about them?

"Jesus, Sawyer, drool much?" Duke piped in, demolishing any train of thought Veronica had. 

"Shut up, Heather!"

"Sorry, Heather." Veronica nodded to Heather in thanks, as part of their new allegiance. 

Lunch continued on with no disruptions, the mindless chatter of the students around them filled the air - Duke was busy listening into the many conversations, hoping to pick up on something she could use to her advantage later. Mac talking ceaselessly about her triumphs in the cheer squad, though no one was really listening, it was a nice filler to what would otherwise be silence. The final two were plotting quietly, Chandler had developed the uncanny ability to nod along as Mac talked, while she was in a completely different headspace. Veronica had no such talent, she merely sat in silence, thinking as quietly as the girl in red. 

She was brought out of it by Chandler, who tapped her on the arm and whispered in her ear, "We're skipping after lunch." Veronica shot her an odd look, there was no reason for them to skip and Heather never skipped without her other two - not unless it was urgent. As it turns out, JD had taken to staring straight back at Veronica while she wasn't looking, his eyes were boring into the back of her head like she was something to claim. A conquest. Chandler didn't like it one bit, and a pointing glance towards him to Veronica made the brunette just as uncomfortable. With a nod to Heather, the dynamic resumed. 

* * *

As soon as Lunch ended, Veronica found herself being dragged by the arm to the bathrooms to write up a couple of passes. There wasn't even any waiting to tell Mac and Duke what was going on. However, Veronica wrote up the passes anyway so they could make their way to the Porsche. Oddly enough, JD had beaten them out and was already waiting there. 

"How's it going ladies?" He asked with a sultry tone, eyeing the both of them with the confidence of Ram on a drunken night. "Where we off to?"

" _We_ are going home, emo boy. Veronica wasn't feeling well, so I'm helping her."

JD's eyes widened in mock surprise and sympathy, "Oh, what a _shame._ We wouldn't want the great Heather Chandler tarnishin' her reputation for something so menial." He jabbed a thumb to his motorcycle at the far end of the car park, "I can take her home for you."

"No need." Heather spat.

"Oh no, I _insist._ " He wriggled the hand buried in his trenchcoat pocket, it wouldn't take a genius to guess what was in there. Heather moved back, her fear of him had grown - she had seen all that he was capable of, who's to say he couldn't do worse - letting him get to Veronica. She glanced back, betrayal in her eyes, as JD led her to the motorcycle. She felt like shit, they had just managed to become somewhat of a team and she gave her up with the blink of an eye. Where had her bite gone? She didn't take her eyes off of them until they were down the road and out of sight.

Hopefully, Duke would already have some idea as to where he lives, her prowess with information was unparalleled. 

* * *

"I've been waiting for this for a while," JD muttered as they rode down the street. Veronica felt stupid, both for trusting Heather and for being too afraid to stand up for herself - all mixed with the fact that her limbs ached, to a point where she just wanted to take them off. 

"What?"

"You're always with Heather, I've been waiting to get you alone."

Veronica recoiled slightly, careful not to fall off the back, "I'm sorry, 'get' me?" The bike slowly came to a stop, they were in front of the woods - nowhere near her house. She wanted to bolt right there and then but JD grabbed her by the arm and forced her off and into the direction he was going in. She struggled in his grip, but he was always stronger. "Where are we going?"

"To talk." He said simply. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I was gonna finish that last scene in this chapter, but I felt a little evil so...  
> See you in the next chapter!


	4. Remember, Remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, have a chapter - a little short, but I feel like I haven't released anything in a while.

"Talk?" Veronica asked, stumbling over her feet as she was pulled. The forest floor was doing a number on her body, what was once a dull ache was slowly becoming unbearable. All she received was a grunt in response. As they continued, she began to recognise the area - moreover, the clearing where they'd planned to 'prank' the two jocks in the original timeline. Doing her best not to show that she knew the area, she asked, "Why are we here."

"I told you, to talk." He replied, coming to a stop in the clearing. For him, the place brought tranquillity, he breathed in the air and gently caressed one of the trees. "Do you know what we did here?" He turned to look at her, scrutinising and checking for any speck of recognition in her features. 

"We did something here? I thought you were new?" She lied, but her eyes trailed over the spot where she'd shot Ram - the gaping hole in his chest from the bullet, the way the blood had slowly trickled out of him. She made a great effort not to cringe, she couldn't give herself away. 

"Don't you know me?"

The wind turned cold, whistling its sweet mocks in her ears. She knew him far too well, the rebel without a cause - the boy who made her feel so much at the cost of darkening her soul. She knew him, all right, though she wished she could just forget. "No." She lied again, "I know you and Mac share a class or something-"

"History."

"Yeah, that."She said, he seemed disappointed by her answer, but he was never really one for looking into anything too deeply. Despite how good he is at covering things up, he's not great at seeing through facades himself - with Veronica, he takes everything at face value. His disappointment also confirmed something troubling for her. "Why'd you ask?" She was shifting on her feet now, eyeing how his hand shifted in his pocket. She averted her eyes to his face and she couldn't deny that he was somewhat roguish, she was disgusted for still feeling that attraction, but she was only human. She was brought back to the night they had spent in her garden, he had soothed her anger almost instantly, his charm had infected her with a blissful kind of poison. She had melted under his touch, swooned at his voice - and no matter how hard she tried to keep up her aloof act around him, she was enamoured. 

She loved him. If only for a short while. 

There was no denying that she couldn't continue to let herself fall for him, nor could she allow herself to appreciate him too much. He was dangerous. The same hands that sparked pleasure in her body, that had set her on fire in that garden; those same hands poured Heather's final drink, they had snuffed out the light of the schools best football players. They had destroyed her, too - set in motion the shitshow she was living through. 

"I was just interested," He said, finally. A smirk working its way across his face as he watched her squirm under his gaze. Glad he still had an effect. "You're _different_ , Veronica."

"Different?"

"More-" He mulled, gesturing absently to himself while searched for the words, " _genuine."_

"I-"

"We should go out tonight, 7/11." He backpedalled, slightly. She didn't like how she couldn't read his face. She also wasn't sure if she should accept, his face was dark, there was something strange about it. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she felt like she was staring into the face of Mr Hyde - that indistinguishable malformation, how it was almost troglodytic in nature. There was certain hate about him, Veronica didn't like how it unsettled her.

She hated herself for how he still managed to enrapture her. 

That attraction she wished would go away, it pulled her in. Egged her on, pushed her to give herself to him - let him lead the way again. Follow back down that dark path, the part of her that didn't care so long as she was with him. So long as she was _his,_ it would all be okay. She could forget about Heather, Kurt and Ram; they could blow up the school and ride into the sunset. He could _have_ and _use_ her as he wishes and she would be content, as she'd be with him. 

Veronica wanted to be sick. "Okay."

He smiled at her. A wide, almost human smile. "C'mon, let's get you home."

* * *

There wasn't a glance spared for the boy as she rushed to her house, then straight to the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face, letting it role down her cheeks like tears and savouring how it's coldness soothed her. Then, looking back up, she caught herself in the mirror and saw that same inhumanity on her face. It stared at her like an itch that you couldn't scratch - one that crossed the barrier from irritating to maddening. What do you do with an itch?

* * *

After finding fuck all at JD's house, Heather drove to Veronica's. He hadn't killed her, she was sure of that, the day would've restarted by now - just because he hadn't killed her, doesn't mean he couldn't do something worse. 

"It's not that I care..." She repeated that like a mantra to herself as she drove. She needed Veronica to sort this mess, nothing more. That didn't change how she practically dove out of the car and sprinted in heels for the front door. She chipped a nail while knocking on it and became increasingly antsy when the door opened on its own. The room shook with a scream as she stepped foot inside and she was back to full sprint to the source. 

"You made me do physical activity, Sawyer," She muttered as she got to the bathroom, "this better be good or..." She trailed off. She opened the door to a defeated Veronica sitting by her toilet. One partially ripped flower stood out as the cause for her cry. They stayed in that limbo for a while, Heather standing and staring while Veronica stared into nothing at all. 

"I'm going out with him tonight." She said, at last, voice monotone. 

Heather huffed, she wanted to scream, but she wouldn't be able to top Veronica's. This girl is the embodiment of a disaster, now Heather was stuck looking after her. "Like fucking hell, you will."

"I have to-"

"Why?" She snapped, "He's a _psycho,_ don't you see that?"

"Yeah, but he's like _us -_ but he doesn't know that we know, too." She explained, "I can't not go out with him."

She had a point, there was no way Veronica could be scared of him without knowing him. "Was that why you pulled a flower?"

They stared at each other again for a few moments, "Yeah, sure." 

"I'm coming with." 

"Heather-"

" _I'm coming with."_

Veronica nodded, slowly getting up and heading to her room, likely to get ready. Heather watched her pull out what could only be described as rags and sort through them. "Your fashion sense is a fucking disaster." She remarked, ignoring how her stomach fluttered when Veronica let out a weak laugh. Though, she didn't move when Veronica pulled out something grey - something she recognised from _that_ party. She rolled her eyes, now wasn't the time for nostalgia. "That, really?"

"It's fitting."

Heather scoffed, "It better not be." She wasn't expecting to receive a chuckle in response, with that, Veronica went to the bathroom to get ready. Chandler took an odd glance around the room; Veronica's textbooks, pens, books, posters - it was all centred around learning. How she could evolve. Even Heather couldn't deny that the girl was impressively smart, she could get into any ivy league school she put her finger on. Her eyes finally landed on the diary. The brunette's inner thoughts, her escape to her mind to rationalise the world around her. If _she_ could just understand. To know what the girl is thinking? Or maybe a selfish desire to read about herself - or find out the extent of her feelings for JD. 

Distantly, she heard the sound of the shower starting. She took her chance, making her way to the diary and opening it slowly - as if she were worried that the brunette can sense when her stuff is being tampered with. However, when she opened to the first page, she wasn't met with your stereotypical 'dear diary' - no, what she was met with was a devolution from chicken scratch to crazed scribbles that varied in thickness and jaggedness. It spanned pages and pages, there were no diary entries. Heather carried on flicking through the pages and she continued to only find those jagged scratches and lines - which worsened the further she went in. 

She had to shut the book. 

Heather sat for a while, letting the silence around her and the distant hum of the shower flood her mind. There was nothing to think about, she was scared to. For all she knows, it could just be something that fucked up due to all the odd resets and she honestly didn't want to think about it being anything else. So she sat, fo a good twenty minutes while Veronica showered, thinking about nothing and waiting for the brunette to come out. 

When she did, Heather didn't mention the diary, she barely looked at her. They just made their way to the 7/11 to wait for JD.

* * *

JD showed up a little after 7pm with a face full of smug glee, though there was a certain amount of disdain when he saw Heather Chandler sharing a slushie with his Veronica. Nonetheless, he made his way over to the duo with a wide smile on his face, "Ladies! How are we?" He asked them, fighting off a twitch as Heather shot him a glare. 

"We're good, emo boy." Heather answered for them both, "What did you want with Veronica?" 

He could stop his eye from twitching this time, he wanted Veronica alone, not Veronica plus resident bitch. He had hoped the girl hadn't been corrupted by the self-proclaimed 'demon queen' of highschool. For now, he'd observe, otherwise, he'd need to start the whole process again - which was tiring at best. He motioned for them to follow him into the 7/11, so he could get a slushie, too. "So," He started, completely ignoring Heathers earlier question, "what's with this new style, Ronnie?" He grinned as Heather's face scrunched up.

"Oh, they're just something I'm trying out. You like them?" Veronica lied. There was now a persistent sting in her head where she ripped one in her breakdown and her limbs felt like concrete, weighing her down with every step. But if she wanted to keep the facade up, she'd have to deal with it. She could cry later. 

Jd studied the flowers, they weren't her colour and yellow didn't really suit her. But he couldn't deny that she looked a lot softer with little flowers in her hair - they looked tedious to style in, meaning she must've put in an effort for him. _Unless she styled them in for that bitch earlier,_ he thought, as he remembered her having them in her hair when they talked in the woods. His hopes of this being the one were going down the drain. "I love them."

The night continued slowly, the trio wandered around the city and conversation consisted of JD trying to flirt with Veronica while Heather made fun of him or shot him down. His patience was wearing rather thin and his hope that he could have Veronica this time was dwindling - Heather knew it, too, with the shit-eating grin on her face. By the time they had made their way back to where they started, JD was gripping the weapon in his pocket. 

"This was nice, Ronnie." He said, caressing her head - pretending not to notice how she flinched and how Heather glared. _No,_ he thought, _this isn't the one._ "But, I'm afraid, you're not what I want yet."

"What?" Veronica asked, bottom lip quivering ever so slightly.

"You're not giving yourself to me, we're meant to be together, you see and-" He trailed, shooting a glare at Heather, "I think I got there too late." He finished with a melancholy look as he pulled out his gun. But instead of pointing at Heather, as he did one of the last times, he just pointed it at Veronica. Heather acted, putting herself between them, despite how she shook like a lamb.

"Heather?" Veronica exclaimed from behind her. 

"Shut up, Ronnie." She turned her attention to JD. "She doesn't like you, freak. Why don't you just fuck off home and go jack off to cable porn like a good little recluse."

"Wild demands to be making, darling. Especially when I have the gun." He didn't entertain the attention any longer, and two shots rang through the air.

* * *

Heather didn't shoot up in surprise, she saw this coming - as soon as Veronica told her that she was going to meet him. But something in her gut told her that she shouldn't let Veronica die alone again - even if it just shows her that Heather meant it when she said they were working together. 

There were also some feelings she needed to get over. No matter, she would meet Veronica at school and they could talk it out when they inevitably met in the bathroom. Then the issue of the diary...

* * *

JD was waiting in Veronica's room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming closer to the end, I don't see this going past about 6 or 7 chapters. Hope you enjoyed and I'll see you in the next one!


End file.
